"Give up, Nightstalker. You cannot win."

The voices in her head were really starting to bug her. They had started when the bottom hatch of the NEMESIS had opened for the seekers, but it was constant and nagging now, suavely intoning that she should quit now and just give up.

"If you abandon the Autobot now, I may punish you sparingly. After all, I happen to like you, Nightstalker, and enjoy your company. I do need an effective torturer, and by Starscream's account you had almost managed to make him break in less than a week. Admirable progress."

Nightstalker blinked slowly, tiny machine gun raised to the Vehicons that were all taller and bulkier than her.

"Admirable, but alas, just as easily expendable. Make your choice quickly, Nightstalker, or I will make it for you."

OH.

It had taken her too long to realize that her communication line was open and the newly returned Megatron was speaking to her, his voice in her audio receptors like a sinister conscience.

It was chilling. She had never been on this side of Megatron's wrath before because she had been on his good side, to put it in any kind of words. He had seemed to . . . like her? Perhaps like was too strong a word. He approved of her, in a way. When she had been brought to him as a child, she had been allowed to live the destruction of Kaon. Nightstalker did her duties quietly and submissively, and her torture skills became known, thus making her more respectable in his eyes. But mostly, Nightstalker remembered the multiple times where she warmed the Decepticon leader's berth, the last time being before he left three years ago.

Nightstalker couldn't suppress a shudder before she glanced back at Cliffjumper stuffed between the mountain and rock. His blue optics blinked at her with desperate fear, completely relying on her to save him.

Her spark jumped. With one measly blink, he had transported her to the past and howling Cybertronians, the burning of Kaon, and the thunderous gunfire of war. One measly blink of blue optics reminding her of another so helpless and weak. Fli-Ni's pleads for help echoed in her memory banks, and his crushed wings glazed in her mind, the energon pooling around him—HIS energon. Cliffjumper lay in a pool of his own energon. The stark resemblance of Cliffjumper's helplessness paralleled to Fli-Ni, and Nightstalker cringed, rocking on her heels when the memory of that explosion shattered her line of thinking.

If she couldn't save her brother then by Primus she was going to save Cliffjumper!

Nightstalker ignored Megatron as well as she could and plunged in, not giving Megatron the chance to make the choice for her—this was her decision, and she was going to save Cliffjumper!

Nightstalker open fired on the five Vehicons, spraying them all before realizing belatedly that she should take them out one by one so she wouldn't be as outnumbered. They open fired back, and Nightstalker shrieked when the lasers shot past her body that scrunched up small. This passed for several long seconds to which she felt one laser graze her shoulder, and then, a blast caught the closest Vehicon and burst through his chest. The Vehicon fell flat, dead.

With a wild glance behind her, Nightstalker saw a nearly glitching Cliffjumper struggling to aim his right gun despite how his shoulder screamed in agony.

A hand struck her face. Nightstalker staggered back, felt her gun slung away from her body, and metal cracked against her face again. She grunted, falling on her back. Her optics frizzed in and out, struggling to focus the distorted vision as a Vehicon brushed by her. She heard Cliffjumper's agonized scream, and anger blasted through her fear.

Nightstalker leapt up, whips jumping out and onlining with electricity instantly. Her mind registered the Vehicon's feet, one grinding down on Cliffjumper's weak knee and the other crushing the tip of his gun closed so he couldn't attack. Not that he would. He was too weak anymore, and his optics were offline he was in so much pain. Filled with the fury of the desperate, Nightstalker lashed both whips around the Vehicon's neck, felt them latch, and pulled—hard.

To say that she was surprised at her strength was an understatement as she squeaked when she tossed him into his friend. Nightstalker took a protective stance in front of Cliffjumper, yelping uncertainly at the Vehicons, "Back, back!" and lashing her electrical whips at them as if keeping lions at bay. They hesitated, eyes full of hate yet wary of her deadly effective weapons.

The opening blast of a ground bridge caused everyone's eyes to jump to the opening. With a gallant rev of his engine, Nightstalker watched with intense relief to see Optimus Prime transform while raising his guns high.

"Autobots—" A small blue motorcycle dashed down, moving twice as fast as her leader as she sped towards the Decepticons. "Attack!"

Nightstalker couldn't even stop to think of what that meant as she saw the blue motorcycle transform, and she was shocked to see that it was a femme. Not only that, but the femme was roughly her size with wicked blades on the side of arms. The blue motorcycle Autobot femme literally threw herself into one of the Vehicons, slinging him to the ground mere moments after Optimus had given the order.

More seekers broke away from the ship, and Nightstalker was aware of five more joining the fray. However, all five Autobots were engaging, Optimus, a big green bulky one, and a smaller yellow bot at the front. A red and white ambulance engaged with the blue femme at Nightstalker's overrun side, scattering the Vehicons.

The last three seekers fought against the nearly feral femme and the other red and white mech, but Nightstalker was left to fend off the last one, as if the Autobot expected her to be able to fight. Did they account that kill to her? A worm squirmed in her stomach. Cliffjumper had done that drunken with pain and unable to rise! She couldn't do something like that when she was perfectly healthy!

Instead, Nightstalker yelped in fear when the Vehicon open fired on her, and she cast her eyes around wildly for her machine gun. Unfortunately, it had been knocked far away across the ground, so she wiggled to avoid bullets and threw the tips of her electric whips at the Vehicon, each kept at bay by the other's attacks. It wasn't until the blue femme tackled Nightstalker's foe and moved on to slice at the next did Nightstalker manage to be useful.

Taking advantage of her temporarily fallen adversary, Nightstalker used her fright to her advantage and slung both whips down on top of the Vehicon. The Decepticon howled in pain as the high voltage of electricity shocked through his body, but Nightstalker was terrified of him getting back up. Scared past using her wits, Nightstalker slammed both whips down on him again and again, hoping to Primus that he wouldn't get up again, trembling hard, breathing too fast—

A gunshot finished the Vehicon quickly, and Nightstalker jerked in panic and swung a whip out blindly. The mech recoiled as the whip cracked just short of his face, blue optics staring down at her trepidation.

Nightstalker shook hard as she forced herself to stand down to Optimus Prime, recoiling her whips. She was barely aware of the Decepticon warship disappearing in the distance, but she was very aware of the sets of guns pointed her way. Nightstalker flinched away from the blue femme when she shot past her to the red mech she had protected.

A stifled choking sound emitted from behind her. "C-Cliff—!"

Nightstalker's gaze jumped up to Optimus again when his eyes lifted to look past her at the femme. "Arcee—"

Nightstalker's spark did an uncanny twist and shrunk in fear. If that femme figured out who she was, she'd want her head for fraternizing with Arachnid—The red and white bot brushed by the rest, including the femme before his gears hinged up in shock.

"By the All Spark . . ."

Nightstalker turned, looking at the medic that bent over Cliffjumper's excruciatingly critical condition. His hands hovered uncertainly before he whipped out a welder and set to work immediately on something—probably trying to stop the hideous flow of energon that had locked him into stasis. The blue femme froze again, optics dilating in growing horror as she took in several of his multiple wounds. Her metal locked tight, and her fists clenched.

"Arachnid . . ."

Nightstalker shied away from the femme when she prowled in her direction. "I recognize those wounds," she growled with a noticeable quaver in her voice. "That poison," she hissed. "That's only Arachnid's doing. So where is she!"

Nightstalker flinched and shrank into herself at the femme's accusing voice. "Arcee," Optimus repeated, "do—"

"I know those wounds!" Arcee shouted again, causing Nightstalker to cringe and shrink, wings pressing into herself as if to make herself smaller. She thought Arachnid did it. If she ever learned that she had done it, Nightstalker was sure to be reduced to scrap in an instant. ALL the Autobots would want her spark as payment for what she had done to Cliffjumper. But—but she had saved his life . . . Nightstalker trembled, suddenly realizing that nothing she did could possibly pay for what she had done. They would never forgive her.

"I'll have her head for this!" Arcee cursed, rigid form making chills rip through Nightstalker's system. "Where is she! Tell me where she is!" Nightstalker flinched back when Arcee moved forward again, and she hit a broad chest. She cowered away from the mech, squeezing in tighter to herself.

She couldn't breathe. They were all around her, they were going to kill her for what she had done to Cliffjumper, and she couldn't breathe around the panic constricting her throat and stripping her of all self control. When Arcee began to demand again, a scared whimper slipped from Nightstalker's throat and she transformed, shooting straight up into the sky. A hand reached after her.

Nightstalker didn't go far. She wanted to make sure Cliffjumper was going to be okay, but there was no telling what the Autobots would do to her. She landed high up on the mountainside, cowering behind a rock. Shaking in terror, it was several long minutes before she could pluck up courage enough to peek around the edge of the rock. They had ceased aiming their weapons at her, but they still looked up at her except for the medic diligent to stabilize his friend. Arcee wasn't looking either; she had a gentle hand cupped around the good side of Cliffjumper's face.

While the others soon looked to Cliffjumper, concerned for their friend, Optimus was the only one who continued to look up at her hovering form. Nightstalker tried to speak, but fear pinched her vocal processors tight. It wasn't until the medic ordered that Cliffjumper be moved to his medical berth immediately, the ground bridge opening up, that Nightstalker found her voice.

"O-Optimus P-Prime," she stuttered out, barely loud enough for her voice to carry. She trusted him to amplify his audio receptors to hear her since she could barely manage to squeak around her terror. "I-I-I s-surrender. I—I—I—surrender."

"Optimus," she heard one of them say irritably, "we can't possibly take her in. She's a Decepticon!"

Optimus only waved a soothing hand to the upheaval within his troops. "Bulkhead, Ratchet, see to Cliffjumper," he ordered them. Both jumped to help, and Arcee glared venomously up at the hiding Nightstalker before following the others through the ground bridge. The yellow one hesitated.

Optimus nodded calmly. "Come down from there. We will not hurt you."

Nightstalker trembled, wings twitching nervously as she looked down at them both. "I-I'm inclined to think differently," she stuttered, peering around the edge of the rock.

He shook his head patiently. "We will not hurt you. Come down. It will make our discussion that much easier."

Nightstalker quaked in her small heels, but obligingly transformed and coasted down towards them. She transformed again, backing away quickly into the side of the mountain. The ground bridge still whirred, wide open. Her wings twitched.

Dear Primus they were both bigger than her, Optimus well over twice her size . . . It was utterly terrifying! However, despite his daunting size that had Nightstalker cowering into the rock face, his voice was gentle. "What are the motives behind your surrender?"

What were they, indeed? Nightstalker tried to rapidly think through her motives, but she was coming up with a blank again. She gave a trembling gesture towards the bridge. "C-Cliffjumper," she stammered. She didn't know why, or beyond that, and she prayed he didn't ask. "And—And I've got nothing left with Decepticons." In fact, she had never had anything with the Decepticons. Just Fli-Ni. And he had been taken by an unknown Autobot. All she could remember was the look of that broad back, and she had never seen it again after that day, no matter how many Autobots she had seen.

Optimus hesitated. She knew he was digging for information so he would know it wasn't a fluke, so she couldn't fault him for that . . . "What are your motives for Cliffjumper?" he finally asked.

Nightstalker drew a blank. What indeed, had been her motives for Cliffjumper? Was it just his nice voice she liked so much? It wasn't anything as shallow as that. She wasn't even on friendly terms with him, and it had just been small talk to fill in the gaps between tortures. Primus knew she couldn't even THINK to confess that she had been his torturer and not Arachnid . . . She held no feelings towards Cliffjumper, so she drew a blank there too. He was a good mech of his own right, but not even that would move her. It wasn't those guileless optics, it wasn't his good looks, it wasn't his subtle words, it wasn't pity.

So what WAS it?

"I—I don't know," Nightstalker muttered, quaking on the side of the wall. What to say? She honestly didn't know. She had just done it. "I—I don't know," she stuttered again, stalling for time. He wasn't really anything special. He really didn't differ from other Autobot prisoners she had tortured. She only real differences she could find were superficial, like only futilely clenching his fist to stop her from hurting his hand, or speaking rather respectively to her as if she were a normal person, and such eccentric things like that. He was nothing special. He was just . . .

Cliffjumper.

Nightstalker looked up, suddenly knowing exactly what it was. It was unusual, and shallow, and perhaps a bit stupid, but it was what it was, for all it was worth.

Nightstalker blinked her orange optics at Optimus. "He gave me his name," she said quietly, for once not stuttering in their presence.

Optimus nodded, and for some reason, he didn't prod more but took her word as it was. "Bumblebee," he said to the smaller mech that waited, "collect our detainee."

Nightstalker jumped and shrank away from the young mech that came her way. The young bot's blue optics dilated curiously at her reaction. He, like his leader, sensed her unyielding terror, and with a few boops and beeps, expressed that he wasn't going to hurt her, Decepticon or not. Nightstalker cowered more, but Bumblebee took her gently, aware of her multiple wounds that would irritate as he pulled her wrists behind her, hands holding her steady.

He led her through the ground bridge, and Nightstalker found herself entering a quaint missile silo that served as their base. She shrank when the big green one and Arcee pointed their guns at her as Bumblebee escorted her past, and she had one last glance of Cliffjumper on the medical berth.

She couldn't suppress a shiver. He looked like he was on the brink of death, which wouldn't be far from it.

Nightstalker felt the distrustful eyes of the Autobots follow her until Bumblebee had wheeled her into some darker hallways. The place was lit uncannily bright, even by Cybertronian standards, but Nightstalker couldn't find it within herself to question it. After taking her some ways deep into the hideout, Bumblebee took her inside a room. It was empty, and he hesitated uncertainly.

*Sorry* he beeped at her. *Forgot the stasis cuffs*

He turned her away again, taking her back down the hallways to another door. Rummaging in the closet he brought out stasis cuffs and cuffed her hands. He hesitated as he looked down at the other pair.

He gave a sighing whir. *Protocol says hands and feet* he informed her. Nightstalker didn't say anything, just tried not to think too hard about what could lay in store for her once they figured out she had been the torturer.

Bumblebee let her walk herself back. His hand carried the stasis cuffs and the other hand held her by the back of her neck. It was a gentle hand though, not cruel, but it still didn't ease the panicked flutter of Nightstalker's spark. When they made it back to the room she was to stay in, bare and dark, Nightstalker sat down as he cuffed her feet so she couldn't run. After a moment, another light went off in his head.

*Wait . . . you're a flier* She had been wondering when he was going to get to that part. His absent-mindedness sent a pang through her spark—the trait reminded her too much of Fli-Ni. His eyes dilated uncertainly as he looked at her, feet bound and hands bound behind her back. *It's gonna get really uncomfortable though . . . But Ratchet would kill me* He hesitated again, but obviously his fear of a reprimand from Ratchet won over hospitality to a Decepticon. *I'll be right back*

Nightstalker just blankly watched him leave, fighting the mounting dread inside her chest. They would kill her for sure. They would want her energon when they learned she had done that to their precious Cliffjumper. She flexed her wings much as she waited for Bumblebee to come back, knowing it would be the last time she got to for a long time. The thought was stifling.

Bumblebee came back and cuffed her wings too, grounding her, and he hesitated once before leaving. He decided to leave without saying anything. Suddenly, the walls seemed to close in tight, and the shadows deepened.

Nightstalker shivered. I'm sorry, Cliffjumper. I tried. No, I succeeded. But I have a feeling that's the last you ever saw of me.

They were morbid thoughts, but it was different when you were the one powerless with stasis cuffs cutting off your means of escape; no hands to maneuver with; no feet to run with; no wings to fly free with.

I'm sorry, Cliffjumper. Though you'll never forgive me . . . If you can't pull through and live for me, then live for Arcee since you guys care for each other. And I . . . I will face my fate.

Author's Note:

Another chapter! :D

So a little bit more of Nightstalker's character revealed, as well as the fact that she used to be Megatron's frag buddy? Whoa!

Also, Bumblebee, you are too adorably cute to be real ^^